Wildest West
by Rinaway
Summary: Inspired by the prompt "Sookie and Lafayette run a brothel in the wild West" and 3x09 Nine Crimes; Sookie's line in Eric's fantasy, 'I've got skills you can't even dream of, cowboy.'     Contains Eric/Sookie and Eric/Pam.


**Wildest West**  
>by Bangfangs<p>

Inspired by the prompt "Sookie and Lafayette run a brothel in the wild West" and 3x09 Nine Crimes; Sookie's line in Eric's fantasy, 'I've got skills you can't even dream of, cowboy.' I also lifted a line directly from one of my favorite movies, 2004's 'Closer'; and it likely sticks out like a sore thumb. It's a sly reference, I swear. Plus, my idea of the Wild West is based mostly off playing Red Dead Redemption. Sooo… there ya go. 

The first thing you should know about me is that I was a bit of an odd bird around those parts. "Those parts" would be Buen Tiempo, Texas, hardly a mile east of the Rio Grande. Just a little tumbleweed town, with one bar that shares a building with a boardinghouse that I happened to run. The year was 1869, and the month was September.

We had a doctor who spent most of his time patching up snakebites and birthing babies, one saddlery, a dry grocer and three hitching posts. Most folks passed straight through and those who lingered tended to wind up in my establishment. I was making up a bed in one of the guest rooms the day that everything began to get strange, shaking out the sheets when Sam grabbed my arm and called my name.

"Sookie," he said loudly. I guess he'd called my name a few times already, but I was lost in daydreams. I startled to attention and looked into his eyes through his fringe of strawberry-blonde hair.

Sam was the man who owned the building and the bar, a saloon named after himself. I paid him rent out of the boarding fees and a percentage of my 'other' income -but more on that in a minute.

I blinked up at him and asked what he was hollering at me for. I noticed his eyes lingered on the low neckline of my gingham dress, and heard a tiny flitting thought he had about my breasts. That's one of the first things that make me odd: I can hear minds, the thoughts of others. Some are stronger than others, but to a degree I hear them all.

My parents hadn't been very impressed with my strangeness, but they were long gone, killed in a flash flood while trying to cross a river in their wagon. Gran was gone shortly afterward too, peacefully taken in her sleep after raising me and then leaving my brother Jason and I to tend the family farm when I was just twenty. Unfortunately, Jason had decided to seek his fortune in California and left me engaged to a family friend, JB. And then JB had been kicked in the head by a horse, and died, and left with no options and no husband, I'd sold the farm. After, I scratched out a living the best I could. I heard from Jason from time to time, in infrequent letters; but he was deeply involved with his new adventures and rarely had time, I supposed, for his baby sister. It was fine.

The backbone of my own business was Lafayette, a former slave of my family's. My father had inherited Lafayette's mother, Ruby Jean, from a distant cousin, and she arrived with him at her side when I was just a tiny baby. We'd grown up together, and Father treated them well, though not as though he were a member of the family. With the Proclamation, Gran had quietly freed both of the Reynolds, and Ruby Jean had disappeared into the night with little more than her freedom. Lafayette chose to stay, working on the farm before she died and dabbling in opium and the roaring black market when I sold it. He also preferred men's company, and made it his specialty to cater to the customers of mine who were looking for that sort of thing.

"There's a new girl downstairs, needs to speak with you," Sam said gruffly, turning to leave. I followed him out the door after briefly fluffing the pillow and placing it back on the bed.

This new girl was pretty and blonde, with huge saucer plate blue eyes. She didn't have a big chest, but her body was shapely and slim, and I didn't think she'd had any babies, though from the lascivious look she gave Sam, it wasn't from lack of trying. She had a couple of smallpox scars, but nothing compared to some of the girls sleeping upstairs. She looked, in two words, fairly fresh. She smiled as I approached, and held her hand out to shake. I took it and gave it a firm squeeze, which she returned.

"Hello, I'm Daphne," she said brightly, looking perky as all get-out. "I heard you hire the girls for the broth-"

I cut her off with a hiss. "Now, Miss Daphne, I don't know where you heard that we are running such an illegal operation, but I assure you that we run a perfectly respectable boardinghouse here at Sam's." I cast about to make sure that Bud and Andy, the local sheriff and his deputy, were not at their usual stools by the pine-wood bar, and then took Daphne by the wrist. "Come upstairs with me, Miss Daphne, and we can discuss your new position as a housekeeper for the boardinghouse." With one final look, I pulled her up the staircase behind me, knocking on the first of a long hallway of doors.

"Lafayette!" I called, knocking three more times. I heard a groan and a "God damn, woman, what time it is?" 

Behind the door, I knew he was rising, hopefully alone, and stretching. Lafayette and I had quite a few understandings about how things went, and I knew he hated mornings almost as much as he hated the chubby old women who secretly lusted after him, oblivious to his own desires.

"Near past noon, you badger. I've got someone to meet you,"

"If she's pregnant, I didn't do it. If she wants to get pregnant, she barking up the wrong tree. You know that, honey." Daphne turned to me with a wide pair of eyes and I mentally chuckled.

"She needs a job."

That got him to open the door. He stuck his face out, and his lips were still rouged from the previous night. He wore a long, plain cotton dressing gown and nothing else. Daphne stumbled back in shock, and I knew she was no professional at whoring- at least, not yet.

Lafayette appraised her, looking up and down her body, then nodded at us both to come in. Just because he didn't eat from the feminine table didn't mean he didn't know how to shop the market. We sank down on a couple of battered wooden chairs as he took the cot, then he fixed her with a gaze and asked her simply, "Now, what's your story?"

They all had a story, every one of the girls, and while they varied, they always had the same villain: a man. A husband who'd run off or died, a fiancé affianced to another in secret, a drunken father who beat her, a pedophile uncle who'd ruined her chances for a good marriage. Daphne had been left without anyone in the world when her parents died in a house fire, and without a man in the family or an education of any kind, she was looking for work in the oldest profession in the world. She was lucky she was pretty.

"You ever laid with a man before?"

"Yes," she said shyly, batting her eyelashes and everything. The men would go gaga for her for a few months if she kept that up. "Tommie, out behind the schoolhouse after dark, and Joey Dinkins a couple of days after the fire. He said he'd marry me, but his folks wouldn't have it. Nothing in it for him, his mama said. She's a mean old snake, and I got no dowry."

I took my turn to pipe up. "Well, you need to know that we keep this quiet, here. I'll send a man to your room and tell him to knock three times. You can open the door or leave it locked. There's a peep hole you can use. Ask what you want from him, but know that half of it goes to me and half of that goes to Sam. I collect fees at the end of the week. So long as you've got 20 dollars for me each Friday, board and lodging is free. If you get in trouble, scream. Lafayette will come running, locked and loaded. Any questions?"

"Is there a seamstress around? I'll be needing some outfits, dancing girl outfits."

"We mostly sew during the day, in the parlor. The dry goods store in town can order fabric and notions, but you might be able to get one of us to sew you up something special if you aren't handy with the needle. The girls swap outfits all the time, as well." _As well as customers, and sometimes, infections_. I neglected to voice the last thoughts out loud, but I could hear she was thinking along similar lines. Pretty, and fairly intelligent. She might fare well around here, after all.

That night, Daphne arrived downstairs in a little floral dress with a lacelet shift peeking out from underneath, her breasts jiggling unbound beneath it. The other girls were all gathered around the bar in various outfits that shone in satin and velvet; next to them, she looked very out of place and drew the eye immediately. I was pleased; that was what she needed to do tonight, and doubtless she would be quite busy.

Arlene sat in a short blue silk frock that barely went past her knees, her vividly red hair tumbling loose and inviting around her shoulders. A little paunch and some crow's feet around her eyes and lips revealed that she was our second-oldest lady, but she had regulars that were quite fond of her. She was sure that Terry Bellefleur had fathered at least one of her children before he left for the War, and still held out a torch for his safe return, though the fighting had ended the year before.

Beside her, Jane nursed her whiskey before giving a large belch. She was a big woman with huge, saggy tits that were squeezed tonight to the top of a pink satin gown, and a gentle laugh that set her patrons at ease. Nervous, skinny men tended to pass the night with her, and her fees were the most reasonable of any of the girls. In fact, depending on her sobriety, I sometimes suspected that she hadn't charged at all. The past few weeks she'd had trouble getting me fifteen dollars, but since she was the oldest- over forty- I didn't hassle her. More than anything, I pitied her- and knew that she pitied me right back. After all, I was twenty five and unmarried, with no man of the house. She wished Sam would marry me.

Sometimes, I wished he would, too.

My cousin Hadley was having an animated conversation with Ginger, the last girl on the roster. They were wearing velvet costumes cut from the same cloth and pattern, though Hadley had accented hers with lace. Hadley and I look a lot alike- sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, nice figures- but she'd gotten pregnant before her wedding day and lost everything. Her parents moved West and left her and the baby with nothing. She'd found a family to adopt her son, and in desperation had come to the bar six months ago hoping to pour drinks. Sam didn't need a bartender, so I'd given her the job no family wishes to share. She was another one who had issues paying board- she'd drunk her pay for the last month or more, and her eyes were starting to take a sickly yellow cast. She was another I tried to leave well enough alone.

Ginger had dark hair and green eyes, and had been a pretty little thing three years ago when I'd first hired her. Now she had the look of a horse that's been ridden hard and put up wet, and she'd taken up chewing snuff which left her skin tough and her teeth yellower than corn mash. She tended to be the last one lingering on a barstool on any given night, though lately Hadley's failing health had earned her the final place finisher spot. Few men wanted to lay with someone so obviously ill.

As though she'd heard my thought, Hadley pulled out a white and paisley print bandanna and coughed deeply. As she stuffed the rag back in her bosom, I saw it was speckled with blood, and I worried about her all over again. Daphne went over to the others and introduced herself, and for the most part they were polite, though my affliction told me that they were all jealous of her to some degree and worried she would cut into their profits. She would, for a while- the men liked novelty- but their regulars would soon fall back into their usual patterns. They were for the most part reliable, even if they were rogues and cattle rustlers.

The sun had just set when the couple walked into the bar. They were both very pale, close in height, and remarkably beautiful, with dark chestnut hair. The woman was long and lean and wearing a denim skirt that flared out over lace up riding boots; her companion had on blue jeans, boots and a cotton shirt patterned in plaid. They both wore hats, which they politely removed as they approached the bar. They looked over the girls as Sam asked what they would like to drink, and they seemed to surprise him when they refused to order anything. I did a quick scan of their brains, and found myself surprised as well: both were silent as the grave.

The woman approached me where I was sitting on the last stool, which was next to the wall. "We seek lodging this evening, ma'am," she said, all politeness. "And my brother would like some female company. We've been told down the trail that this is possible?"

"Oh, yes. I've got two clean rooms and the ladies beside me who will entertain the gentleman." She gave a look at her brother, who made eyes at Hadley then gave a small nod. I wondered at the man's taste, but not for the first time. Maybe he had a thing for illness. I tried again to hear her thoughts, then the brother's: still, nothing. At least with Sam I got a faint trace; these two were like brick walls.

I decided to stay in the room next door, just in case, due to their mental oddity. We only had three boarders tonight besides the girls, so we had plenty of room, and it would make me feel a bit better. Hadley disappeared into her room without a complaint, and I settled down in bed with a candle and a book until late in the night. She arose the next morning to find her companion gone, she told me, and gave me a real smile. I assumed he'd slipped out in the night with his sister. Both beds were sufficiently rumpled, though they smelled strangely musty, like old books.

"His name was Will. He paid great," she said dreamily when I brought her coffee and a hard biscuit the next morning. She pressed a five dollar bill into my hand. "He said he'd be back tonight, and he'd pay double. I hope he does." When she touched me, I got the oddest feeling: it was like I was watching a dream, someone else's dream. Her memory of the night and a standard bit of passion was hazy, and in bits and pieces. I'd never seen anything like it.

True to form, the strange siblings returned the following night. I was working on my ledgers when they walked in, motioned to Hadley, and then disappeared up the staircase without as much as a word. It was about an hour later when the bar door creaked open again, and I looked up to see yet another stranger entering the premises.

This man would have stood out no matter where he went. He was the tallest person I'd ever seen, and his hair was as long as any woman's, and maybe just as pretty. It was about the same color as mine. He was dressed in blue jeans, a jean button-down shirt, huge heavy boots, and a leather cattleman's duster that had to have come from two cow's hides stitched together, owing to his massive size. A couple of the men in the lounge choked on their drinks, and all of the ladies dotted along the bar perked up noticeably. I could all but hear their nightly rates lowering and my profit margin narrowing as we all stared at the magnificent man, and I found that I didn't really mind all that much at the moment. He had two gleaming steel pistols, one on each of his hips, and he walked into the bar as if he owned it. A black, wide-rimmed cowboy hat completed the ensemble. I swiped my affliction at his mind, and again found it was frustratingly blank. Was it failing, finally fading away? I hoped so.

Then I noticed the little gold star on his lapel- he was a sheriff. I wondered if he was visiting Bud, or hunting down a fugitive. I started to get nervous as he walked across the bar, making a beeline for me. Were we being busted at long last for our sinful deeds?

He looked me over and then reached for my hand, raising it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand as quickly as a hummingbird, then said, very formally, "Levi Nord, at your service, ma'am." My heart fluttered. I kicked myself mentally, then smiled and gave a little half-curtsy, thinking of my dead mother and her likely shame up in Heaven at my lack of manners. "Sookie Stackhouse, sir, at your service. Do you need lodging?"

"Indeed I do, and company as well." He eyed me up and down, lingering on the curve of my hip. "You'll do nicely."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Though he was far from the first to hope I'd entertain him, rather than the ladies, he was the first to simply assume I was on the menu, so to speak.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm no whore, Mister...Nord."

He arched an eyebrow, and then let his eyes take me in completely once again, forehead to ankles. He cleared his throat and motioned for a beer to Sam, then murmured, "I wouldn't pay."

I sputtered, considered slapping him, considered calling Sam over, considered slapping him once again. The gall, the nerve of this man, waltzing into the saloon and presuming I'd so happily lay down with him.

"I am not available." I settled for the lamest response. Surprisingly, he cracked a grin, then downed the beer the second it touched the bar and spun off the stool.

"If your bounty isn't on the table, then I suppose I'll have to settle for merely a room. With a window, please."

"They've all got windows. I've got a couple's suite with a bigger bed. You might fit on it," I hazarded, taking in his full height once again. Wow. I led him to the end of the hall, and showed him into the room. As I turned for the door, he reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his long, elegant fingers. The second he touched me, the oddest thing happened: my mind went blank. I heard nothing, saw nothing. For a few long seconds we looked into each other's blue eyes, and we saw something there that intrigued us both.

I cleared my throat after a long moment, and excused myself. I felt his eyes on my back as I closed the door behind me with a quiet click.

I bolted down the hall and into my own room. I slammed myself against the planked door and tried to settle my galloping heart. After locking the door, I threw myself under the covers, not even bothering to change into my shift, and buried my head under the pillow. While I rationalized being a twenty five year old maid in a brothel, and why it was wrong to want to go knock on Levi's door, I heard a moan. And then there was another moan, which was pitched differently and still female.

Now, these are hardly unusual noises for a brothel, but the second moan was one of someone in grievous pain, someone injured. They sounded like a gutted pig clinging to life, or a snake bitten horse just before it groans into death. I reached with my mental affliction and heard Hadley's confused mind, which seemed to be drenched in red. I sprang off the straw mattress and flew through my room, yanking the door open and beginning to pound on Hadley's. No one answered. I dashed across the hall and banged on Lafayette's, desperately hoping he would awaken. His door was locked, as well. I grabbed a crowbar from the tool closet down the hall and wedged it in the doorframe- Hadley's door splintered open.

The room seemed to be coated in blood: the bed, the curtains, the window itself and the walls were splattered with it. The man was still working over her, though she seemed near death, and I couldn't see a weapon. Incredibly, his beautiful sister was standing over Hadley's face, and she had her hand moving under her own skirts. They both locked their eyes on me as I screamed at the top of my lungs. Before I could process what had happened, the woman- what was her name, anyway?- had pinned me against the wall, her hand around my throat. I gagged.

"Now, pretty barkeep, I'm sorry my William is such a messy eater, but you must understand, he's newly made." As she spoke, I could see she had two sharp teeth- pointy, sharp teeth- on the top of her jaw. _This must be a dream,_ I thought. _This can't be real._

"But don't you worry your pretty little head about that." She looked into my eyes and I felt the same fuzzy haze descending around on my mind that had clouded Hadley's that morning, pushing with an annoying force. But I remained crystal clear in thought, and she pressed further. "You saw nothing tonight," she commanded, and I felt like I should be experiencing something, but it just wasn't happening. She relaxed her grip fractionally, enough that I could breathe, and cocked her head to the side comically.

"What _are_ you, little girl?" she wondered, and then her brow furrowed. "Maybe a taste will tell me."

I gathered enough air for a scream as her mouth lunged for my neck, and I tried to pull free. Tears watered in my eyes as I felt my forearm snap with the pressure her hand placed around it. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The woman had dropped me, and someone with very heavy footsteps had entered the small room. William looked up from Hadley and made a feral sound, like an animal. I looked up, up, up at the towering Levi, who glanced down at me and then at the woman, who had somehow appeared beside her brother. How had she moved so quickly? And moreover, how had Levi?

"Lorena," he said, and he had a slight accent I hadn't noticed earlier. "I didn't know you'd made another child." He made a "tsk", and I wondered what the hell was going on. "You grow tired of them so quickly. But still, you must know this cannot stand. We just discussed such things at the Summit last Friday. Secrecy, Lorena. We must maintain it, and now I must clean up your mess. You will be punished for this."

I watched these strange phrases fall from his lips, and it was then that I noticed he had a set of pointy teeth of his own. In fact, they were…fangs. I gave in to the throbbing pain in my arm and my own confusion, and promptly fainted.

I awoke to cold water dripping on my face. It was Levi, and the moment I opened my eyes, he used the damp rag to mop my face and neck. I looked around frantically, and saw that Hadley was tucked under the covers, soundly asleep. There wasn't a trace of blood anywhere, and no sign of her customers from that evening. My arm felt fine and held no pain, even as I traced my other hand along its length over and over. Impulsively, I bridged the distance between us and pulled up his top lip, but saw no trace of the pointed teeth I'd seen the flash of before I lost consciousness. He grinned back at me, and laid a tiny kiss to the tip of my finger. Then he looked into my eyes again, and said,

"Sookie, kiss me."

I felt the same buzzing that the woman had sent out, but nothing else. After a moment, he broke the contact and the haze instantly rolled back. "Interesting- what Lorena said is true. We have no influence over you… how unusual."

I straightened and pulled away. This man was so intriguing, yet so terribly improper. I'd never met a whore who behaved so impishly, much less a man, even in the odd company we kept. "Mr. Nord," I said imperiously, "I do not know what town it is that you're Sheriff of, nor where you come from, but around here we refer to one another by their proper salutations, and I do not believe we are on a first-name basis."

"Miss Stackhouse," he said again, that strange lilt returning to his voice. "I do apologize. I come from a time and place where surnames were quite uncommon."

I let that settle in my brain for a while. A time?

It hit me like a runaway wagon wheel: a memory from my childhood, reading penny dreadfuls. I reached out again and touched the lovely man's palm with my own, feeling its coldness, and got all the confirmation I needed. And then I fainted again.

-

The year was 1869, and I was not surprised Sookie had fainted again. She seemed to know what I was, which gave me a new issue to deal with besides cleaning up after Lorena. It figured that something had to go wrong; the Summit had gone entirely too smoothly, so of course something had to go awry shortly thereafter. That was simply my luck.

I had been a vampire for close to 900 years, and recently had accepted a position as an Assistant to the Sheriff of Fiefdom 9 in the Kingdom of Louisiana. It was my first formal appointment, though in some respects and in some circles, it was felt that I hadn't earned it- my maker, Godric, had arranged the details with Tetzel, the Sheriff. The position included a tiny gold star for my lapel that shrieked my status to other vampires, but oddly seemed to delude foolish humans into believing that I was a member of their law enforcement. At times it was a bizarre perk, admittedly.

I laid the beautiful blonde barkeep back down on the bed she'd risen from after her first fainting spell. The notion of a woman 'getting the vapors' was still quite common, though of course it was rubbish. I remember a good deal of my Viking life, and certainly no Nordic women had collapsed from overexcitement in my day and age. I'd also been truthful to her about the issue of surnames- in the small villages we lived in, a surname was only assigned if someone else happened to share your name and had it first. I'd been named Erikson, because I was the son of Erik. Things back then were so very simple, especially compared to modern notions of naming children.

Then, of course, I adopted names and identities as easily as I sipped blood from femoral arteries. And on the topic of names… I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind, feeling the distant hum building a line between my blood and Sookie's, working in the background. Like pulling the string on a cello, I found the line that connected me to my latest child and snapped it back, her tone reverberating in my mind. Now focused, I called softly to the blood, to her mind, and felt it harmonize in response, knowing she was on her way from her daytime resting spot. My newest child was very young- less than six months old, and still wildly in love with me, of course. I didn't know how she'd feel about the decision I was considering, so I decided to involve her in it. It would deepen her already entrenched trust in me, and bond us more tightly. Besides, it might also be fun. Thus far, Pamela had proven to be very, very entertaining.

She was also gorgeous, and pouty, and brilliant. I'd been proud to call her my progeny at the Summit, and several others had complimented my choice in turning her. And the more selfish part of my mind, the devil on my shoulder, wondered how much work another child would be, could possibly be. What a finely contrasted pair they would be, too- one willowy, the other an hourglass. I pushed the piggish thought aside- what vanity.

"Eric?" I heard her call softly from outside the open window a moment later. I sprang from the sill, gathered her in my arms, and flew back up the three stories, reappearing between the sleeping blonde cousins less than 10 seconds later.

I put her down, and she traced her finger from my throat to the button of my jeans, looking hungry for something much more primal and basic than bloodlust. I placed a hand on each shoulder and pulled, grabbing her full attention.

I still couldn't help but smile at her, the bond between Maker and Progeny connecting us with a bright, white-hot cord. I felt her affection bubble along to my mind, and answered it with a surge from my emotions, mirroring hers. I'd never been this fond of a Child before- I'd made two before her, and now they were both gone to their final deaths. I'd also never chosen a woman for a Child, or on a whim as I had Pamela. Perhaps I'd been wrong in choosing men I believed would complement my skills in battle. Pam twitched as she smelled the fresh blood that lingered, and then her eyes snapped to Sookie's inert form on the thin straw mattress; her fangs ran out, and I wrapped my arm completely around her waist, keeping her from bolting and draining her. She sniffed carefully another few times, then whirled and glared at me.

"She's had your blood. I can smell it in her. Why is it in her? I'm your sweetness." Pamela actually stomped her foot as she used the pet name I called her in our most private moments. There was a crackling line of orange irritation sparking now along our bond.

"I'm considering turning her," I said simply. "There's just something about her… something I want to discover." I'd never made two children so close together, but the opportunity was something I didn't want to pass up. Other vampires might raise their eyebrows, but my Sookie was in her prime, and I didn't plan to linger in Texas any longer than strictly required now that the Summit was over. How strange, too, that I'd already called her mine in my mind. All of this was more than I needed to tell Pam; she was bright enough to figure it out herself.

"You're upset that I don't have your abilities." Her lower lip jutted out as she eyed me. Pam was still insecure about her abilities in comparison to mine, especially now that she'd just met a wide variety of other vampires with various talents.

"Pamela, I've told you: I couldn't fly until I was nearly 600. You will grow in power and strength as you age. And eventually, you will want to leave me, sweetness." I wasn't looking forward to that day, but knew it would come in time, perhaps after we ceased to be lovers. Our kind wasn't known to pair off for long, as a general rule.

"Never. Are you casting me out, already? And it's for _this_ little curly-haired blood bag?" She grasped one of Sookie's locks between her fingers, twisting it. She gave the sleeping woman an appraising look, as though she were evaluating a horse, and then her expression stirred. "Her hair's nice. It's soft."

I recognized the hidden, longing way that Pam looked at women from time to time, though she was still unwilling to admit it even to herself, and clearly she found Sookie attractive. If this was the way to foster her favor for her probable new 'sister', then so be it. I moved closer to them both, laying one hand on Sookie's breast and reaching to place Pamela's on the other. The girl shifted restlessly, but didn't wake. I flicked my finger across one nipple, and it peaked up quickly. I saw that my progeny had done the same to its mate, and smiled, my fangs dropping slightly at the sight of her so clearly intrigued by the possibilities.

Unfortunately, that was the moment Sookie chose to surge into consciousness. And she continued her momentum right up off the mattress, her palm slapping my cheek before she'd even noticed Pamela's presence. That flare of temper made my decision, and I pulled her wrist to my lips and bit, feeling the first few drops of her blood hit the back of my tongue. I closed my eyes, savoring it…

I dropped her palm as quickly as I'd seized it, the wounds sealing with my saliva. I cursed colorfully in several languages, only one of which any of the women surrounding me understood; Pamela cocked her head as she deciphered my Norse. I could taste the Fairy in the girl, in an instant, and that made things… complicated. I needed to contact Niall, a prince of the Fae, and see if he knew of the girl.

"What in the hell was that all about?" Sookie demanded, rubbing her wrist. I was sure it hurt, though the wound was healing quickly.

"Nothing. Come, Pamela."

Without another word, we both slipped out into the night through the open window before Sookie had the chance to even blink.

-

To put it mildly, the next morning was…weird.

I wasn't entirely sure that it hadn't all been a dream. Hadley was the glowing picture of health; Lafayette had no memory of my frantic pounding on his door; and the room which had resembled a slaughterhouse was as pristine as any of the others. I did notice that there was a sheet set missing from the hall closet, but such things "grew legs" on a regular basis anyway, considering how often the girls needed fresh linen.

It wasn't until Arlene perched herself on the barstool beside me and said, "So, Mr. Nord….", that I decided it was all, in fact, reality.

She remembered him; the other girls did too, aside from Hadley, whose mind was a pleasant buzz of pleasure from the hundred dollars she had safely tucked in her garter. She planned to give me forty and use the rest to move back East, buy some respectable clothes and try to find a job as a maid or a nanny. She had had enough of whoring, and was convinced that a miracle had saved her from her consumption.

I couldn't prove it had been anything else, though I suspected that Levi and his beautiful female companion were involved.

Based on his interaction with Lorena, it was obvious that he was in a position of power over both of them, whatever they all were. I refused to think that they were what I suspected- blood-drinking, night-walking, dead demons. That is, vampires.

In any case, there wasn't much I could do about it until nightfall. I went through my normal routine, and tried to look surprised when Hadley slipped the bills into my hand and told me her plan, then went back upstairs to pack her few belongings into a battered old trunk I'd given her. I sincerely wished her the best, though I would always worry about her as a woman alone against the great wide world.

Sam was drying glasses when he approached me, the clean blue rag wrapped around his callused hands. I informed him of my intention to go down to the dry goods store in Munson and pick up a few bolts of corduroy I'd now be able to afford, and he nodded with a gruff noise as though I were asking his permission. As if he owned me. Men!

I fetched my bay mare from the pasture that Sam kept about a half mile back behind the bar. As I slipped the bridle over her face and laid the Navajo blanket over her back, adjusting it before I reached for the saddle, I considered all that had transpired the previous evening. I failed to see the coyote that spooked her, and she took off, leaving the blanket in a heap in the dust and the reins flapping against her neck as she galloped back to the rest of the herd. I cursed mightily, and tore off after her, calling her several names that would be inappropriate for small ears.

I also failed to notice the deep rut until my foot caught on it, and I heard the snap of my ankle bone. Then my world was a haze of pain. I did not succumb to the overwhelming desire to pass out yet again; I was determined not to heighten my confusion any further. But it hurt, badly. The horses came over to snuffle at the grass around me, and sniff my dress, and then they ambled back to the other side of the pasture.

I lay on the ground for what seemed like days but was only a few hours. A grasshopper landed on my collar, and I flicked it off. I watched the bees buzz around the prairie flowers, and the birds that flew between the sparse trees and plentiful brush. I thought about my brother, and my parents, and how Hadley was likely boarding a train at this very moment, and how no one would send out a search party until dark. My entire leg was swelling, and the skin felt like it couldn't stretch any farther without tearing. I missed my snug, warm bed and my novels.

About two hours later, just as the sun was going down, a collie came trotting purposefully across the pasture as though he knew I was there. I recognized him; he was known to skulk around the trash heap from time to time, though his coat was always pristine. He stopped, sniffed me, and whined. I reached for his neck, hoping to feel a collar by which he might be able to pull me, but there wasn't one. Suddenly I felt very weak, despite my resolve. Everything felt very light except for the pain…

I heard a very bizarre sound, and the next thing I knew, Sam was carrying me in his arms. I was pressed against his bare chest, and each footstep banged my good ankle against the broken one. It took all the mental strength I had not to burst into tears, partly from my gratefulness, and partially from the agony of each movement.

The doctor met him at his front door, and they put me down on the bed. I drank a few swallows of whiskey as he set the bone, and then, feeling safe, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

-

The moment I awoke for the evening, I knew something was wrong. Though the bond I'd made with Sookie was tenuous at best, I could feel that she was in pain, the string that connected us gleaming bright red in my mind. Without really rationalizing it, I tracked her to the laughable excuse for a doctor that Buen Tiempo maintained, and picked the lock to her room easily. The doctor himself had finished off the whiskey he'd dosed Sookie with, and was asleep in his own quarters.

Her ankle was badly broken, and infection had already begun to set in; I could smell it, deep in her blood. The humans' sad attempts at doctoring would not save her limb, and at worst, they might fail to save her life.

Fae were increasingly rare in the world, and I hesitated to turn anyone who claimed kin to them for fear of retribution. There were few things that the Princes loathed more than vampires as a general rule, and though I was on good terms with one, Niall, he was far from king of the entire race. The message I'd left with his nighttime representative might have reached him, but then again, he might also have sent out a response I'd failed to receive. I was strong and swift, but against more than a few fae, I had little hope of survival.

On the other hand, Sookie was only partially faerie, a hybrid. She lived alone, with no one to care for her, unheard of in my time and very unaccepted in this one. Surely if the fae valued her, they would have taken her in by now? I was sure they were aware of her existence. They seemed to have a connection to the entire supernatural world.

I decided to give her enough blood so that she would heal, and decide later what to do with her. I bit my wrist and held it to her lips, and after a few drops fell down her throat, she stirred and began drinking in earnest. What I did not anticipate was her reaction; she grew aroused, and when she opened her eyes, she drank in my appearance as she swallowed my blood. I groaned as she broke the contact to gaze at me.

"Levi," she said, and reached for my collar. I let her pull me closer, then dipped my head and claimed her lips. She kissed me back deeply, and from there on, my instincts ruled as I moved to lay myself along the length of her body, placing kisses along her neck. She seemed to have lost all rational thought, and I let my own fly out the window after hers. She was intoxicating, and I seemed to leave her breathless. I nuzzled the delicate skin behind her ear as my hands moved beneath her blouse, and when I bit she cried out in pleasure.

The taste of her, taken in passion, was sublime, and as we shed clothing I took another piece of her. She bit down on my shoulder as I claimed her. I was quietly surprised that she had taken no lovers yet ran a brothel. This woman was truly a wonder. I shuddered with pleasure as she drank from me again, and I kept her blood flowing. It seemed the decision had been made for me to turn her, I thought idly as I drank her down, her body moving beautifully below mine.

It was all quite wonderful until I heard someone clear their throat loudly. Being as Sookie's lips were firmly attached to my shoulder, I knew it wasn't her. I pulled myself reluctantly from her and she made a little noise of protest.

There was a pure fairy standing beside the old iron medical bed, and I knew that it alone had saved me. The look in her eyes was murderous. Evidently, someone- well, someone else- cared for Sookie.

"Off her, Vampire," she growled. Sookie now noticed the fae as well, and sat up; abashed enough to pull her shirt back down. Somehow it had ended up bunched around her shoulders.

"Who are you?" she demanded, and I felt her annoyance as though it were my own, probably because it was. Our bond was nearly complete, and given a few more moments, she would have been turned. We'd been well on the way to draining each other, and I felt a little weak.

"I'm Claudine, your fairy godmother." Merriment sparkled briefly in the fairy's eyes, and I began to feel the longing for her blood that always accompanied a meeting with the fae. I forced myself to remain with Sookie.

Then, my poorly disciplined child decided to make her entrance. Pam glanced at me and then pounced for the faerie, which shrieked and skittered sideways, and I sighed before I gathered my voice.

"Pamela, as your maker I command you to stand beside me and in no way harm the fairy."

She glared at me as her legs forced her to march over and take a place next to the bed. Sookie was hastily rearranging her clothing, and we were both very unsatisfied.

Claudine decided to speak up again. "I can't have you turning my charge, vampire, not without even knowing what she's getting into."

"What do you mean, turning me?" Sookie demanded. Ut-oh. Pam snickered. Really, this wasn't really that different from the scene six months ago.

"I wanted to keep you, so to speak. To take you away with me." That made it sound so romantic. I felt a warm little glow from her in response.

"What he means is "drain you of blood, killing you, and then bringing you back to life as his thrall. You've seen how he commands his other child." Claudine glared at me.

Well, none of this was working out well at all.

-

For just a moment, I stopped and looked at the group assembled around me.

There were two people- I refused to think of them as vampires, god-damned vampires, for Christ's sake- standing on one side of the rickety iron bed arguing for my death, and another stranger, albeit a beautiful and seemingly benevolent one, arguing to save me.

If I'd been well on the way to death in Eric's arms, then it sounded like a pretty fantastic idea.

On the other hand, there was the whole issue of living thing. Lord knows I wasn't living a grand existence, nor a particularly honorable one, but it was still a life, as opposed to death.

I wanted more time to think. My fairy godmother seemed to sense as much, and whispered theatrically into my ear.

"Tell them that you rescind their invitation."

I did, and just like that, the two vampires walked straight out the door, though Levi- well, Eric- looked annoyed and his companion simply bored.

Claudine spent a few hours explaining the true nature of the world to me, in a rather long conversation that stretched past the dawn. Now that I knew what they were, and what she was, and what I myself was, things were making a whole hell of a lot more sense.

I was prepared to make a logical and informed decision.

That's why I left eleven hundred dollars in cash, a white lace slip, my mother's pearl earrings, and a note full of reassuring lies on Lafayette's dresser and disappeared into the early evening mist with a Viking and a Victorian on September 9th, 1869.

I wish you and yours the very best in every decision you make. 


End file.
